Crazy Lisa Likes Crazy Jackson
by psejhan
Summary: Lisa likes Jackson, that's why she's crazy. Jackson likes Lisa, that fuels his crazy. Lisa's life has gone scrambled eggs, and the vacation Cynthia's got her into isn't exactly sunny side up to help her with her predicament. in jeopardy.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1: She's Got Issues

Her dreams never did him any justice. Despite its effects on her and her bolster, it still never did. Or perhaps it had but somewhere in her head she knew it did not. Despite the fact that the closest she has ever gone with him was in a tiny airplane and a death threat, she knew that that moment had its chemistry. Being held like that was indeed horrifying and adrenaline inspiring—knife against your throat and all—but Jackson Rippner was still too hot for his own good, maybe not, but it was not good for her when she had taken note how big the big bad wolf's hands were and how warm it felt specially when he touched her so dangerously. She is definitely sick. Derranged! Masochistic, sadistic, asinine victim she was. Still, she did win that epic battle of brains and brawns; of course, she is not referring to a beauty pageant (though it could also be) but a red-eye flight with a terrorist.

It has already been three years after the red eye incident and it was completely out of the picture in her life now. Yes, she was a big liar. But no, she was not… perhaps she was not and maybe that's the only thing that had matured in her during these three years; being more honest… at least to herself. When she promised herself that all things traumatizing and bittersweet about that day would be kicked out of her life, the scope and limits were clearly outlined inside her head. It was an unwritten contract between her and her façade; okay she wrote it down, is there something wrong with that?

This is how the contract goes:

**SCOPES**

Stop the paranoia! If you're that paranoid, why don't you just hire a guard to do the looking over your shoulder every half an hour for you? It'll save you the neck cramps.

One pepper spray is enough. You don't need to put your second bottle in between your breasts just like that infomercial.

You don't really need that pen you keep pinned on you or that one in your blazer, nor the one in your slacks… don't even get me started on those ones occasionally in your boots. You have a blackberry.

Your brother is missing his hockey stick.

It's been five years Lisa and not every guy who looks at you wants to rape you. You're pretty but you're not exactly wearing just your underwear and stilettos to work.

Not everyone wants to neither kill your dad nor use you as a terrorist tool. If anything, they probably learned their lesson that Lisa Reisert can kick managerial ass.

You should date.

You should do your job and just continue excelling.

Stop visiting your dad everyday; he is possibly wondering if you are hiding a husband who is battering you.

Be more honest to yourself and a bit to others. You might actually have a possible stalker and terrorist like you the next time that unknown asks you for a drink.

**LIMITATIONS**

Due to the statement of scope number 10 you should be honest especially to yourself so you can admit that you have a little crush vehement lust on Jackson Rippner—the terrorist who almost killed you, your dad and a politician with his family of kids and a wife.

Forgive yourself of the dreams you get.

Forgive yourself when you can't sleep because of him.

Forgive yourself that you had stabbed a man in the throat .though it was a pretty morbid smart thing to do.

Forgive yourself about being a lunatic with this lust on the terrorist mentioned above.

Don't tell anyone you actually want to do more than murder to Jackson Rippner.

Remember that it has been three years already, he's probably forgotten about you or dead.

It's not entirely your fault that he might have been killed by his company because of your causing him to flop.

Remember that no one needs to know you have fantasies about Jackson Rippner swarming inside your brain/gutter.

What happened was entirely non-personal and his lack of morals is part of that fact. Yes, you might just be as crazy as him for believing this but what's happening to you right now may just not be your fault. Insane people don't have to get jailed and so you can blame everything biological including those dreams, habits, fantasies, moments, etc. as long as you keep it to yourself.

(So scope and limits don't really differ from each other and they don't conform to the normal set of scopes and limitations.)

**Summary**

You've moved on so much that you now have a hate-lust relationship with the idea of your sexy, blue-eyed ripper and it's totally fine as long as it's kept in the closet and your social life and career are not affected.

**END OF CONTRACT**

See! She was pretty honest at least to herself. He was out of her life, at least in the visible parts of it. She was not going to depression—she could skip the whole lot of that! She'd had too much of that emotional bullshit for the past years after that damn rape and she is not going to step into that a second time by her own freaking free will.

Alas, the contract was violated only once for the whole year! You have got to give her credit for that. Well, three years was more than enough time but still… How could you forget him and his hounds? He was a wolf, waiting to pounce while deceptively looking seductive with his piercing blue eyes. He was not exactly seducing her but still, he was emanating seduction without a word. Seduction! The art of making someone do something they want to do secretly. A murderous, malicious seduction… by a handsome, evil, debonair man. It was a sheer miracle he hadn't succeeded.

So what exactly violated that contract that was carved into her mind? It is quite an interesting and funny story really.

After the epiphany and the mental contract with herself, she immediately began dating. Perhaps, just perhaps, by finding someone better or someone at least that she could get him out of her system.

She took note of one man and had him pinning her down in throes of passion about five months later. He had blue eyes with some orange staining around his pupil. It probably had been an appealing feature for some girls but it ticked her off at times. She wanted clear, baby blue eyes you could get lost in for days… but she compromised. She was still a bit trying to become healthy in a way that she would not pick a man replicating her assailant. Nonetheless he had pale skin until he had that tan she so hated one day. He also had a lot of hair just like Jackson; it was thick, curly but a darker brown—which again she called a form of desperation on her part to be 'called' healthy. Last thing about him that came to a lousy imitation of Jackson was his extreme skinniness. He wasn't like Jackson who had a great build and was hereditarily (he was healthy and she knew that with his strength) slender and not skinny. Despite all that, at least they had the same height.

It was pretty easy to bait the thin but handsome lad into her life. Just a few laughs here and there, some flirtatious banters and ego build ups… she really did not have an evil intention but she knew she needed something (blame biological reasons) and she might just like this guy. The possibility of eventually accepting this boy/man and actually, just might begin to love him and further down the road love him enough to actually start to get her infatuation with her bomb of a so-called manager out of her system was altogether too tempting for her. Jackson Rippner himself was not going to be servicing her needs anytime soon and truth of the matter was, Jackson Rippner would be too much for her to handle even if in some maniac reason he came back. Also, she wouldn't actually want to lose what's left of her dignity, integrity and life (on account that he was still a coldblooded killer) just for some lustful desire she had in her. Sometimes, the imitations were better than the real thing.

So a few months after meeting him, they were sweating on each other in her bed. The sensations had overwhelmed her, kept her on a high, as she was actually getting laid—what a miracle.

'Before' Jackson Rippner, she had abstained from the filthiness of carnal urges due to actually lacking it. So abstaining wouldn't be the word since that would mean it was voluntary, the proper terms should be missing out. She had been raped and thus sex was not even enticing but on a level, gross. 'While' Jackson Rippner, she started opening up to the idea. 'While' Hyde of Jackson Rippner, the thought left her mind and focused on survival. 'After' Jackson Rippner. she forgot about her rape, having a new gruesome experience. 'After' a few erotic dreams of Jackson Rippner, sex then started to make a new name to her; it became from "unnamed armed rapist" to "named armed terrorist". When the time came when she just could not bring herself to despise her steamy dreams, the mental contract was made.

When the "miracle" was still on its stage of foreplay, all there was were moans and groans and all kinds of indistinct sounds. While the miracle was happening was a different story. She forgot the exact reason why she only moaned in response to him. During the foreplay, her mind still had the ability to function but when it started really happening, it was impossible to remember reasoning. It had just been too long since she had a man touch her and all that crap and so, she completely lost it. Her brain had betrayed her, flashing images of a naked, panting Jackson while she was being covered by a different male. It looked so real (and felt like it too), as if she were hallucinating that the back of her mind had started to believe it was actually Jackson. Then the inevitable happened and before all this she had a hunch it would happen. As her toes curled and head buried into the pillow in climax she screamed, "Jackson!"

Poor boy couldn't stop. Again, blame the biological forces of life. She couldn't bring herself to say sorry… she couldn't even remember the fact that his name was actually Herbert. Lame name. Perhaps it was that last glass of Seabreeze she had at the restaurant's fault that she had fallen asleep so quickly after a few gentle smiles (by her and her alone) when he collapsed on her.

As soon as he noticed she was asleep, he clothed himself and ran out the door and permanently out of her life (at least for that moment). He did not hell know who Jackson was but he could have forgave her if the name she had shouted at least started with an "H" like Harold or ended with the same syllable like "Robert"… but no… "Jackson my ass," he mumbled as he drove away from the woman's house.

She awoke and saw herself alone in her bed. Last night's recollection ran through her head and boom! She knew what she had done. Then she was sort of glad. If he had actually loved her, he would send her at least a text message of concern or jealousy or plain just hurt due to his incapability to keep it to himself but he did not. If this night had happened a few months later then he just might have stayed until she woke up to fight for his one sided love. She would have fought for her and they might or might not have remained in contact but he didn't and she was smiling at that. It saved both a lot of trouble, really.

* * *

Author's Note

Just popped my cherry on fanfiction writing at this site. Quite embarrassingly, it ain't my first time writing fanfiction. **It's easy as pie so please leave a comment!!!**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2: BLURRY**

Everyone has that fear inside of them… that fear that there's always a possibility that they're crazy. This fear only blossomed when someone said, "crazy people don't know they're crazy" because it let in the idea that you just cannot know that you are crazy. Even when you're in an asylum and confined for your insanity and you act like you know you're crazy, you don't actually know. In fact, everyday in that white walled room of yours, you wonder, you ponder, you doubt, and ask yourself, "I can't actually be crazy, right?" There's a strand of hope in you that says, "You're not crazy, but the doctors, nurses, even your family are! But not you! Impossible! Those nutty people all fussing around about your sanity!" Who was really crazy? How are the people who tell you you're not crazy sure that you're not, when you're not sure if they aren't? It sounds so vague how the whole crazy system works. Perhaps it is all just a conspiracy to keep nonconformists behind walls or in a straitjacket. That certain fear of being insane embraced the very essence of Lisa's being. It's not as ridiculous as it sounds when you're actually caught in that moment. Maybe it was the side effect of being raped and being so badly charmed by a killer. She did not want to go to a therapist—a shrink! Ugh… the possibility of being diagnosed as a nymphomaniac, bipolar or just plain crazy alarmed and scared her. She could only ask herself the question, "Am I crazy?"

That day she smiled when Huebert had left her, served as a wake up call. It was creeping her out how she was becoming obsessed with Jackson that she was becoming innately loyal to the memory of him. At least she was not a necromaniac… He was certainly still alive. This is another ground for insanity! Was she not in touch with reality… a schizzo? She should fear him, fear his very existence, but that was not exactly how she felt. He was in jail after all…she was safe… she was just having a crush on him… obsession's really more like it. The possibility that he gets out of jail is something she'd rather not think about unless in her dreams. In her dreams, it was all cloud nine but it most probably wouldn't end up like that if it were in reality since chances are he will be there for revenge and not to satisfy her not so docile whims. Revenge was best served cold and it would not be done quickly, of course reality is still reality. She still acknowledges that in reality, heaven with Jackson would only be reached if she manages to kill him while he is killing her if hell did not exist that is. Anything with reality and Jackson in the equation would equate to a morbid scene and her in a coffin or floating lifelessly on the river, unless! Cheating death was her vocation, her calling in life.

Why the hell did she have to go crazy (literally) for a lunatic? Like dissolves like… a conditional law in chemistry, how silly. Crazy Lisa likes Crazy Jackson, nothing spectacularly weird with that.

Living alone in her unit in Miami never really felt truly alone. There were just moments she was sure she wasn't alone. The rest of the time, she was too busy wondering about other crap than the crap that she was alone, which is saying a lot for a woman in her late 20's, single. Perhaps solitude was pulling her heartstrings, making her cherish it? No, no it wasn't. Being in bed with a man didn't exactly scream out solitude; but how about the other times?

Memories of Jackson then came back to her. How exactly did Jackson Rippner survive that last day she saw him?

Death was not exactly an adversary. Death was not so unwelcomed. He was not suicidal this way, but just fearless and slightly precautious. He had done myriads of jobs without a scar but a few with some deep ones but nonetheless, it meant that Mr. Rippner easily escaped death. After all, he was not nicknamed Jack the Ripper without the ability to manipulate his life strings. Bad weeds die hard, maybe he should write a book about it under some pseudonym. He had impeccable plans; equipped with escape routes, plan B's to Z's, and physical training. What kind of a manager would not have a plan Z? The corporation did not just force him to be death's advocate but had naturally become the best conspirator of death or manager, as he likes to call it. He was not threatened into his profession, rather he chose it. Bleeding, sprawled on his prey's territory, and yet deep down he did not feel like a goner. As blood climbed up his throat, he thought, "I'm actually going to use plan C."

Her father had left her for a few minutes that day. After their second of an embrace when they found themselves triumphant her father hurriedly rushed out the door to get the police whose sirens could be heard a few meters away. It left her alone, staring unbelievably at him. She did it. Did she?

Her dad and she shot him and were sure he was dead, by now. Sure? She came to him and checked his pulse and was shocked he was not. Her dad had tried to kill him with bullets and she'd already given him quite the beating prelude to that but this superman's kryptonite was none of that. Finding herself still gawking at the fact that she could still feel his pulse, suddenly, bringing herself to a position to land another bullet into his head with the flashing gun just a few feet away if she twisted a little to the right was not an option. He was unconscious and clearly bleeding through his wounds. Not only would she be really killing someone, she would also be doing it while he was unconscious. It seemed wrong to kill him in his sleep when he was already dying. She would be like a rat, an assassin, like him, the scum of the earth. Perhaps the pulse she was feeling under her two fingertips under his neck was nearing extinction. He might even be brain dead already since a dead frog under dissection could still have a beating heart.

She woke up from the reverie of dancing at the cliff of life and death for Jackson Rippner. She could not simply wait, and just watch him die. She put pressure on his gun wounds with her hands to slow down the bleeding but found the need to oxygenate his paling face. How could she do that without both her hands? She was saving his life, for some mad reason that proved she had turned crazy the moment she had met him. Pity, it must have been pity and humanity that coursed in her veins. There was nothing crazy about that, right?

So, she counted to three before releasing his major wounds; the bullets. Hastily, she put his chin down with one index finger and squeezed his nose shut with her other hand. She gasped a breath and blew into him. She then got back on the wounds and noticed something… He was hot… thermally, literally hot which was contrary to his alabaster face. Dying people were mostly cold… Then she saw it, the vest he was wearing. It wasn't as thick as bulletproof vests and wasn't tight that it constricted his breathing but it was keeping him warm and alive. A bulletproof vest would have caused suspicion in the airport but this vest looked different and subtle enough not to. She couldn't take off the vest, she knew it was something he had on to keep him alive for some reason but now, all he seemed to need was oxygen to be pumped into him as she felt under his nose any air being sucked in and felt nothing. It only takes four minutes for a man to be brain dead. Perhaps the jacket had absorbed some pressure from the bullets to keep it superficial… This man really did come prepared for anything.

He was going to live, wasn't he?

So she kept breathing in to him, supporting him, almost kissing him, making her lips swollen of all the contact and puckering. It was malice free, really, she was focused enough to be so. She could feel him growing more alive with the second and it was worrying her. What if he killed her when he recovered? You never know but he might just have regenerative powers. Or a shot of adrenaline, revenge, weird energy might make him just kill her. A stabbed trachea and gunned trunk would certainly drive people to a killing spree but she felt like she had no choice. She kicked away the weapon near his hand and resumed. She couldn't leave him to die. She only stopped once the sirens rang close enough to be sure. She didn't want to appear as if she was trying to save him though she in fact was, she didn't want anyone to know… The facts flew in that he was still supposed to be a villain that she is supposed to not want to help. Sitting in front of his pale face, she stared at him. The evil, fearsome but beautiful eyes were concealed by his eyelids with the most angelic eyelashes a man could have. He wasn't frowning, that would be taking too much of his energy. His face only held a weak sleep as if in a lazy afternoon with his mouth hanging open a little. Only this time his full lips were dry and chapped, his healthy rosiness just a dim memory and his shirt soaking in his blood.

The Paramedics came and took him away... she was actually in the same ambulance as he. They were shocked to know that he was her assailant when she was telling the story. She was telling the story in a panic; characterized by her hype tempo, staccato and shortness of breath. She had looked at him with so much forlorn, as if in regret in the distance, as if with a love that was lost and thus her lack of celebration with conquering her tall, handsome criminal left the officers a bit baffled. The only reason that made them depend on her testimony was the words, "I'm still shocked."

"Oh, aftershock… Poor girl...." The officer had nodded at each other.

Jackson did survive. The trials went on, he was convicted. They never did see each other though. The times he was there she wasn't, times she was, he was in the hospital. It was probably for their own good. He was imprisoned for a lifetime and after that she never heard of him again.

Never… never heard of him again from the police… from the police.

A month from her so-called break-up, she was back in the dating world. Cynthia had managed to force her into a 3-day vacation at some resort. No, Cynthia would not settle for a hotel—reminded her too much of work. She said she would bring her boyfriend and a blind date along. Lisa was not excited nonetheless was pretty open. She did not want to close doors on possibility, she was new and improved! Somehow? So she packed her bags and rode with Cynthia in her car, asleep, to hell-who-cares-where.

The resort was experiencing bad business at the moment with the uncaring heavy rains. The pools were overflowing, the whole resort was flooding! The coconut trees swayed angrily in the wind. While workers, who were also struggling from not being blown away, were manhandling some umbrellas, the other umbrellas had gone inside out or were at the tip of flying away. They sat in the car for a few minutes, watching the weather that roared at the whole resort.

Cynthia was starting to worry about some piece of roof would come slicing into the car, going all Final Destination on them. She was also blaming herself; she did not predict this would happen, her little swimming getaway turning into a perfect day for hot cacao. But neither was Lisa good with predicting, like how she didn't predict that gentleman Jackson was a jostling manager out on the kill.

The rain was strong and furious; it made Lisa immobile and silent in the car. Cynthia was just apologizing nonstop and was starting to get annoying.

Lisa was supposed to meet her blind date at the hotel about two hours ago but that was not visible right then. What they saw out the window also wasn't so visible. The strong downpour blurred the whole place into some bad watercolor painting framed by the car window. She saw someone, someone going towards their direction in the chilling, thick rain. It was hard to believe this was still rain, there was no thunder to call it a storm but the strength was just the same. Maybe this was a monsoon, or a cyclone, or whatever, she's not good with weather jargon.

He wore clothes perfect for the harsh weather. It completely covered him, if he was even a he.

If it was a he, maybe it was her date?

He had a hat that shielded his eyes and a hood tightly locked only leaving his nose exposed. He continued to move towards them.

This mystery guy was certainly of the male species she was sure. It was in his steadfast walk despite the contrary winds.

He reached them and knocked on the passenger seat's window. She watched as Cynthia rolled down her window a little.

"You, is that you?" Cynthia asked the unknown man.

"Boy, that was a very smart question, Cynthia," Lisa thought, a bit irritated by Cynthia as of the moment.

They still could not get a clear view of him, not even of his nose that was the only part of his face that was exposed since again, the rain blurred everything. However, of what she made out, he had a soft, male nose that she hoped was not connected to some disfigured face underneath.

"Pardon, ma'am?" he said with a voice that seemed to have been distorted to a different tone by the thick cloth that was covering his mouth.

"Oh, it's not… sorry… are we blocking the driveway?"

"Sort of… Would you like to go to the parking? It is much safer to keep your car there in case of hale. You've picked quite a grand time for a swim," he had to butt in that sarcasm into his offer for assistance. He should have just laughed as well if he thought that it was funny to be one a resort, all ready for a swim, but instead this horrible weather making your "best friend" go all self pitying and self degrading to the level of annoying. What a peculiar way of welcoming guests to a resort… He should be happy for their coming, they were business, money.

"Yes, yes, but we don't know where."

"That's why I'm here. Follow me, miss."

They all doubted if he had heard Cynthia's thank you since he had walked in front of her car so fast. They followed him and reached an elevated building where they parked their car. The minute they got out of the car he was already going away.

Cynthia yelled a thank you and he looked back at them. There was no rain inside the building and he had raised his baseball cap a little as he made a gesture of a bow meters away as though saying welcome. But before he'd left, his eyes had connected with Lisa's for a split second to wink at her.

She recognized him. But none of them did. She had whispered in a voice with mixed emotions, "Jackson" Who could forget those eyes? She would recognize those eyes even a mile away.

Cynthia heard her mumble and asked her what she had just said then inquired, "What?"

Having seen the innocence and nonchalance in Cynthia's face she found out she didn't recognize him.

That was three years ago, he's still in prison… In fact, Rippner couldn't possible be the only man in the world to have hooded blue eyes.

She must have been hallucinating, because of missing him too much. Maybe she should visit him at prison. That is crazy. That was definitely not him. It cannot be. Justice was served and Jackson was incarcerated for life. Now, if she told Cynthia what she'd seen, she might think of all sorts of conclusions. She might even put a finger on truth—about her obsession. That wouldn't be nice and that would be violating the contract. And so, she would keep quiet. She was probably just imagining it. She was probably delusional; you know how crazy people are, even when they do not want to admit it.

There was an entrance to the hall from the parking building where they could check in for a room. The place was pretty huge and beautiful only there was a brown out. There were a few emergency lights put on but it was still a bit dim since there weren't a lot of windows.

Cynthia began squealing. This made Lisa nervous for a split second until she noticed that Cynthia was running towards some other man besides her boyfriend. She looked at her side and made sure that Cynthia's boyfriend was beside her and not the guy Cynthia was hugging right now. Indeed, it was not her boyfriend. Oh, her blind date? It did sort of make sense that she was close to the guy who she was actually cousin to.

He looked familiar even if she couldn't see his face since he was raising Cynthia with his hands around her waist way up, covering it. He was tall and had brown hair she saw glimpses of… the skinniness.

It began to make sense. "Oh, no," she weakly said.

Cynthia was walking towards her already with her cousin hand in hand, his face in quite a good view to tell why he was so familiar.

What happened minutes ago replayed in her head, _"Hue, is that you?"_

Oh, damn Hue.

They twitched at the sight of each other but nonetheless pretended smiles in front of Cynthia.

Hue was thinking, "it's that emotional baggage girl. This is shit."

"Huebert Dawson, this is your date for three days, the magnificent Lisa Reisert! She's Wonder Woman, you know!"

"She probably is…" he sort of lied, still a bit in shock and panic. He knew Cynthia was sensitive, she wouldn't like it if he suddenly acted bad around a lady, especially a really close friend of hers.

Lisa smiled at Cynthia and then at Huebert. "Nice to meet you," she shook his hand and then looked back at Cynthia. She hoped Hubert would take the clue that she was pretending they just met each other. "You see, the weather's kind of too cold for me at the moment… I have to leave you guys a bit. I got to go the lady's." And with that she stormed off alone and into the lady's room right after she asked a staff member where it was.

She went in, absentmindedly locked the door and quickly realized her mistake. Her hunches were mostly right, why did she choose to ignore them now? She should never have gone to this silly vacation shit. She felt like she shouldn't have but had insisted to herself that only crazy workaholics don't go on vacations.

In a matter of seconds, a voice from three years ago, that has been replayed too many times in her fantasies spoke, "Thanks for the wind Leese, I really needed it that time. I knew you were still nice and soft inside albeit the little throat incident." His hot breath entered her ears dangerously close and for a few seconds she just wanted to close her eyes and pretend she really was just crazy.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3 WHAT GIVES YOU HELL**

He was thanking her. Wasn't he unconscious then? Fear and embarrassment mixed, giving her cheeks the deepest shade of crimson. Her life was threatened and this is what comes into her head?

She changed her mindset. Then, she could not do anything other than fostering her growing fear with their position. Her life was in intense danger for the third time. Why did the police not tell her he was on the lose? Maybe then she had at least been a little more careful. Maybe then she would not have fooled herself a few minutes ago that it was not him she saw wink at her at the parking lot. She should have known better. Now she was stationary and under his mercy, again. She even accidentally locked the door for him. Was she this much of a magnet for disaster?

She could not scream, knowing that it might just be the most fatal error of all. She didn't want to open her eyes and perhaps just convince herself this was just a dream. After all, the lights were still out and opening her eyes wouldn't make a difference. Then the lights flickered on and its suddenness made her open her eyes. When she saw herself, just as vulnerable as she had been to him in the tiny airport toilet reflected on the mirror, she couldn't bring herself to shut it back again. How ironic to also be in a toilet the second time around. He was standing behind her with his one hand gripping her waist as it firmly went across both her elbows to keep her from moving and the other hand held a blade flat against her jugular vein, ready to cut with a twist and a slide of his wrists if she screamed.

"Want to have some Seabreeze with an old friend? No Baybreezes this time, Leese, you know it only gives you a headache." He was smirking at her while she looked back with a frown, a bit confused and more angered.

She looked so defiant, so enticing that he just had to lean in to kiss her ear. Blame it on the three years that self-control was suddenly so hard to maintain.

"What do you say, Leese?" he smelled her hair.

She wanted to make a get away. Jackson had always been unpredictable but this was more unpredictable. It seemed as if he wanted to kill her with that damn blade but he'd kissed her ear and asked her if she wanted to drink. Did he lust for her too? Damn. She should not be thinking this way now. She should have realized that feeding her yearning for him these past months would lead to thoughts such as these in the most inappropriate times. If she only knew that a time as this would come, she would have brought those freaking bottles of pepper spray.

"Whose lives are you threatening now?" She fiercely looked straight into his eyes struggling for her sanity and possibly her friends' lives.

"I figured I'd move on threatening your mother and brother. I have _men _there."

So he's considered that her father's had enough excitement in his life huh? How about her life? Was he not putting too much effort on giving her hell?

"Why? For who?" She wanted to know. Maybe it was another job and another scheme with another family to target for murder with her as a tool just like the last time when he failed.

"For you, of course. Why'd you spare my life Leese? Did you expect me to rot in prison?"

"For Hue? He wants you to kill me?" she jumped on conclusion, seeing he hadn't answered her question.

"Huebert? That weakling that you had sex with?"

"You've been stalking me again? For how long?"

"Just when I was reported that you were getting serious with a guy. I was working Lisa. I wouldn't be spending all my time watching you even if you wanted me to."

"So you just wanted to watch me having sex with another guy, is that it? What the hell? You're a pervert now, **too?**"

Then he said in her ear in a way she was familiar with, "Jackson!"

"You're not the only man named Jackson in the world!"

"I didn't know you were getting younger Leese. All that stress of missing me finally made your reasoning go out the window? Don't you know you're not supposed to scream your assailant's name when climaxing?"

Of course she knew how she shouted his name in sheer ecstasy while she was doing it with another guy. It occurred to her that he had been stalking her. So red as she was, she pressed on questions. It was better not to dwell on that topic, anyway. She can't have sex with Jackson, he might kill her when he orgasms. Lisa could mentally scolded herself.

"Fuck you." Why must she use that profanity? "How did you escape? Why the hell are you here!?"

"Contacts, Leese, contacts. You've got to know Lisa that in my business, there's plenty of money and plenty of empty pockets waiting for me."

"You're the devil."

"Which brings us again to the same question, why did you," he paused in a quarter of a second before he twisted her around (without wounding her of course) and landed his lips on hers.

Lisa was shocked and unable to move as Jackson's lips landed on her mouth which was ajar with surprise. Maybe he did like her? But Jackson was… was still Jackson. Reality's Jackson… She shuddered in fear of the thought. Then suddenly he blew into her mouth to demonstrate what she did years ago.

His cold breath entered her and made her hot all over. His soft lips were still placed on hers even after breathing into her. He broke contact. Why'd he have to remember getting a CPR from her? Confusion reigned down her. What did he want from her? Was he going to rape her for revenge? Would it even be called rape? Was he actually grateful that she saved him? Why was he here? There were so many questions that flashed after the warm contact of lips. He stared at her, penetrated her, Lisa the statue, with his clear blue eyes.

Her tears welled up. She didn't understand. "I didn't want to see you die."

Then she saw it spark. There was that spark in his eyes which she took as her signal. Distraction… She kneed him hard on the groin and she didn't even know what possessed her but the urge to go away just tormented her guts and forced her to do something just to get away from this murderous, vile, man of her dreams.

"I'm not like you Jackson, I don't enjoy death."

Jackson was burning with pain and had let go of the blade and had sprawled on the bathroom floor. She quickly got out of the toilet knowing that it only takes a few seconds for Jackson to recover from any kind of pain. She had stabbed him in the throat once to prove that point. Maybe he had one of those special trainings on disconnecting from pain.

She ran and found her friends nowhere. She ran to the receptionist and described how her friends looked like. Were they even still alive? She could not tell about Jackson upon remembering that her family's life was in danger. But she had to get away. Get away from Jackson Rippner, the man she loathed and lusted for. She was confused, utterly, despairingly humiliated and in fear. For once this year, she fought the biological forces.

It was just impossible that he just wanted her to confess how she had fallen in love… no, not in love. Hell no. She had lusted for him.

Why was he alive in the first place? Shouldn't he be dead or something? Did the cops really get bribed to not telling her she's in grave danger? He wanted revenge. That day he followed her to her house she knew he wanted to kill her with all that he was worth. She knew he was a manager without a moral in his sleeve except for honesty. Now that you think of it, he hadn't lied to her but he has caused lies via bribing and had deceived her which is a form of lying, too. Not a pretty honest man really. Wasn't his corporation mad at him for messing up? Why was this manager still not out of business?

Lisa was hiding in some room she rented for herself. Her friends would reply to her text message, they would! For the meantime though, as she waits for their reply, she had to be safe from Jackson. She then texted her mom that it wasn't safe.

The doors were locked, the windows shut, and just to be extra sure she was holding a pen and in a closet.

She couldn't believe it; it sunk to her in a different angle-- he was back. He came back for her. Hell, she was so dead.

Then there was finally a message in her phone saying that the network systems there were down.

Then her phone rang again.

FROM: ###########

Get out of that closet and come to me. I'm at the resort restaurant and there's already a yummy glass of Seabreeze waiting for you here. Have you forgotten about your mom and your brother? Your not safe there Lisa, I have dogs in the place.

She tucked the pen horizontally in her knickers. She pulled her top down to cover the linear bulge it made. Then she slid in her pepper spray (which regrettably was alone) where it was probably safer, in her bra strap, between the cups. It was a handy spray, she didn't have that large breast to sneak a big can. Then she crept out of the closet and started for the restaurant.

Why couldn't she just call the cops? Because they were easily swayed with bribe, that's why. She could only trust herself, and maybe Cynthia, just like the last time.

He immediately saw her amongst the crowd but decided to wait for her to come to him instead. It was a somewhat weird feeling for him to have Lisa come to him when he was most of the time chasing or stalking her. It was a bit fulfilling in some demented way of his… maybe even a bit romantic. He laughed at himself.

When she arrived in front of him she was carefully examined where she stood.

"Tell me what you want."

He chuckled as he kept his eyes looking up and down at her to eye on any suspicious weapons she might be hiding.

"Stop checking me out!"

"Don't get your hopes up to high Leese, I'm just checking for any weapons you've hidden. It's impossible you don't have one. I suppose you're not going to just hand it to me to make this all easy,huh?"

"I have nothing to give you Jackson. I don't always choose the hard way."

"Oh yes, you do. You always like to get cute." Then he stood up, towering above her (she should have worn pumps) and spun her around so that her back was against him.

The position, somewhat, in the crowded restaurant, made it hard for her to give him another low blow which she hadn't planned to do early anyway. She had to save her family first.

She unexpectedly felt his big warm arms wrap around her waist. "I have men ready to shoot you who you can't see right now Leese, so be a good girl, okay?"

He brought her to a desolate corner in the room where a big potted plant hid them. The plant really didn't do much but the place was so busy with the people complaining about the weather, the lights, and finding their luggage that the two of them didn't seem to bother anyone. He sucked in a breath. He had to do this, she's forgotten all about fear. He needed something and was going to get it. He pressed her onto the wall with his body. A few tricks would reestablish fear. Fear and respect were never arguments in Jackson's line of job.

He can't possibly rape her in this much publicity can he? The pen was starting to hurt against her pelvic bone as she was being pressed against the wall.

She felt his hands deftly moving from her waist to her ribcage as if feeling her up, and he was, he was actually feeling her up. He was taking detours with finding the damned weapons. 'Oh, hell,' she thought. She gasped at the round movement on her bust. An electric shock of attraction shot within her, and the control over her craziness started to flicker away.. She wasn't supposed to feel this way. Then again, she was, she was aware of how she longed for his body but now was simply not the time… it would actually never be the time but that didn't matter, fact remains that she isn't supposed to crave.

"What are you doing Jackson?" it came a bit weaker than necessary.

Jackson was sorry to say to himself that he was actually enjoying this. No, he wasn't sorry. Murder and assault never bothered him but rape was a dirty deed he'd prefer not to be on medication while doing—he's never done it in consequence. It wouldn't actually be called rape if he did her right here right now since her voice trembled with pleasure and he knew it, though. Oh he knows how much she wants him. He tried to control his breathing and his heartbeats; he also knew that she felt it, with him this tightly bound to her. Maybe it would scare her… he would need that. Then again, she might think he's nervous. Yeah, she knew he was enjoying his, an erection against you does say a lot.

It did. Lisa was speechless. Her mind was going mad. She couldn't fight… She couldn't bite him if she didn't want to get shot. Even if without the guns invisibly aimed at her, she didn't know if she would fight. You just can't fight biological forces when this guy had you putty in his hands. She could feel him and it was turning her on more than badly; feel his breathing, his heartbeats and the excited hem of his pants.

He knew it! He felt something hard in between her breasts. She had done it in the past according to one of the men who he had surveillance her.

He was tempted. He gave in. There were much cleaner ways to do it but he just had to do it for the sake of his oozing want. He slid down his hands to the hem of her shirt only to go underneath it. The touch of her hot and sweaty skin in his palms alone felt arousing and he had to continue up.

His fingertips were as hot as burning cigarettes on her skin. She drew more breath as he took his hands higher. He dug his head into the crook of her neck and deftly cupped her bare breasts by entering beneath the bra's band.

Her bra's band felt painful when it tightened on her back when his hands came in. However, the pleasure at her front was greater especially as he thumbed her erect peaks. She couldn't help but moan. She should have been telling him to stop but she just couldn't. This man had opened up her sexual desires for so long and he had given her a real bit of it.

Hearing her moan just triggered him to sharply grind his pelvic bone against her back. Oh hell, he just dry humped her. This was going to get out of control soon if he didn't getting on with his official motive for the moment. With one ragged breath, he forced out his hands out of her bra's tight bands and had one hand occupied with her little pepper spray can.

He dropped it to the ground and had to loosen his bind on her for a while. He had to get his scrambled brains together.

One weapon down. Oh shit. Don't he dare find that pen. Then the idea crossed her mind that he finding it would not be that bad. She felt like crying. She might as well be his bitch. "Damn you, go to hell."

He was completely taken aback. The hate that laced her words was surprising even to a hated man such as him. The sensuality that had gone on… Hell, she was enjoying this; he knew it, so why was she cursing him? He knew the answer to that. She must hate herself so much right now.

He let out a breath and lightly released her from being sandwiched with the wall and his body. She breathed heavily and turned to face him. "Lisa, Lisa. Didn't they teach you about the gray parts of life? That killing the villain isn't always bad? Killing them means you don't want them back. You want me back and you hate yourself for it. I know you like lying but be honest with yourself, you know you have permission to let me die. Or do you just like playing my good little girl?"

"Had your fun? Can't you back off me now? Or better yet, leave me the hell alone!"

He frowned then without a warning dug one hand into the hem of her pants and into her panties to get that pen. His hand had accidentally wandered a little lower in pretend search of the murderous pen and felt how wet she was. He couldn't help it—she was practically begging for him anyway. In unison, they both gulped and he took out his hand and threw the stupid pen away.

"Such a bad girl, Leese…" Then he took out his cellular phone which she only stared at. She was genuinely denying herself of speech. He is always as blunt and sarcastic as he could get.

"Wait for my call," he looked at his watch… "5 pm. No call, you know what to do."

"Bastard!" then she started hitting his chest with eyes swollen but just not about to cry just yet.

"You know how I work, Leese. Better get used to it." he caught both her wrists and slammed it on the wall atop her head. He pinned her with his body again and she felt every part of her weaken and could only think how pathetic she was. "Stop it. No one's going to get hurt unless you rouse me to it."

He stared into her big beautiful eyes as she stared back.

She missed him, how that sucks.

He missed her, how that bites.

They really give each other a hell of a time.

A/N*

Thanks for the wonderful comments guys! I love 'em! I'll be writing more this summer so I'm not always going to be late on updating anymore, yay! Please, please, please comment, it fills my heart with pink dreams and melted chocolate!

You can do it!

Comments????

Puss och kram

Perper


	4. Chapter 4

**AN* Personally, I love this story because I love Jack and Leese, but I'm getting worried about its future. 1, the fad has passed. 2, lack of inspiration. 3, lack of comments. These 3 reasons give way to the story's improbable success and impending doom. So, help me if you like it. **

**Chapter 4 HELL SONG**

Her cell phone must be in her rented room, it wasn't in her pocket anymore. "Stupid friends don't even care to look for me."

"Cynthia is enjoying her time with her boyfriend and you see your blind date, wishes he were actually blind just to not see you." He laughed as he drank his Vodka.

She rolled her eyes and actually drank the Seabreeze down on one go. She'd actually be quite happy if he'd slipped poison into her drink, saves them all the trouble.

"You know, Keefe is still going to get killed."

"What?"

"You just made it harder on the corporation, now that he's got twice the number of security guards as an elected official. Nonetheless, he's got to die."

"I've never exactly had the chance to ask, why is Keefe a target?"

"Truth is, he used to be our boss—the boss who we found out was going to squeal on us. I don't believe that he's grown a conscience, since a chameleon may change the color of its scales but not what it is. You know how a Zebra cannot change its stripes."

"That's impossible, Keefe's a good guy."

"Keefe—a good guy? He's risking his family's life for the skeletons in his closet. We all know the politics is a dirty game. We want to send out a message you know, die before you even get to squeal. He's actually dirtier now more than ever if you ask me."

"I really can't see Keefe killing like some trigger happy bum or like you, a calculated lunatic."

He laughed. "Leese, can you stop being so black and white? That's just the way it is in politics. Have I ever lied to you?" Actually he has lied to her. Not then though, just a few minutes ago. He didn't have men out to kill her family, what a waste of money. Sure money wasn't an object but what would be the difference? If she were to run to her home, he didn't really care that far off. She'd still be threatened especially with their beautiful history. He also did not have men aiming their guns at her right now, just one. Two would disrupt his privacy, too. Also, he wasn't one to hire for personal vendettas, so it wasn't really just her. They were really on the job so the other guys have their barrels on hold. Keefe hadn't arrived yet. On top of that, truth never really worked well with her. Just now she can't believe the truth about Keefe. He wondered what she would do if she found out that he was out to kill Keefe now, who would be, in fact, be in the same building, room 1709.

"It's just… Can't you just kill me to get it over with?"

"How much are you willing to offer?"

"What?"

"You're asking me to kill someone. That's my job. I should get paid. Last time I tried to kill someone without cash on their head I failed. I suppose if I keep it professional at all times then I wouldn't fail." He raised his brows at her.

She bitterly laughed. "So I have to actually hire you to kill me? Isn't that your plan anyway?"

"Now, now, since when did I say I wanted to kill you?"

"Actions speak louder than words."

"I'm a naturally violent person. I don't need to be murderous just to be violent. People say I'm not physically imposing, so I tend to want to break their neck for it but seldom wind up doing so. People die too quickly that way."

It seemed that Jack the Ripper liked giving away unnecessary details. Maybe it's the liquor, perhaps it's not. After all, he never drank the whole time during the plane trip. "Then why else did you come for me? Do you want to say sorry?" His sarcasm was driving her nuts.

"Why'd I say sorry to you? You just made us waste more resources than necessary just for one job. That was really bad for our reputation."

"Reminds me, you ruined your corporation's reputation and yet they didn't kill you?"

"I am the corporation." He stared into her eyes, hard. He was making a point, and boasting while at it. "Yeah, I was next in line to Keefe."

Her eyes widened.

"My brother and I started our business and Keefe's corporation bought us. The consequence of how that job turned out is our reputation and the ka-bar guy's life. How could they kill the big boss? I ultimately blamed the guy who insisted we take plan B, so he got the beating. Bullets were tempting, but we settled for the classic baseball bat, very mafia-ish if you ask me." He was actually pretty proud of this. He really was the corporation since his co-owner acted more on desk jobs.

"Another Seabreeze, please," she told the bartender after wincing at the emptiness of her cocktail glass and her life.

"Look, don't tell your friends I'm here. They'd think you're crazy. Which is true..." he pinched her cheek. "…And don't try leaving prematurely, I kind of like this place. If you do leave, you know I'll just follow you."

He knew her too well.

Her Seabreeze arrived and the moment she looked back at his direction, he was gone.

"Can't get away from the Seabreeze, huh?" Cynthia's familiar voice piped as a manicured hand snaked around her arm.

"Why'd you leave the reception desk?"

"We thought you were right beside us. I thought you were with Hue… The bellboy told me the storm should pass by night. We could go for a swim tomorrow afternoon when they've flushed out and refilled the pools. I've arranged for us spa treatments later while the boys check out the arcade."

Spa, she did need to relax. Relaxing would help her have a clearer head—better, quicker decisions. Oh shit, she was stuck in the same resort as Jackson. How unlucky can she get?

Before she could relax though, in comes this guy with blonde hair, brown eyes and a mustache. She knew better than to squeal when he swung his arms across her shoulders. "You must be Cynthia, I've heard lots!" the guy's other hand came shaking her bewildered friend's. "I'm one of this pretty gal's many admirers. We just happened to be at the same resort, what a coincidence, right?" The guy, obviously Jackson in a wig, contact lens and a fake mustache was also faking an Irish accent. The accent was very believable, a bit charming really.

Cynthia laughed and winced at Lisa.

"Oh, how rude am I? My name's Vlad," What kind of a name? Did he really go by a vampire's name now? Why hadn't he just used Dracula?

"Maybe it's his fetish… you know, using evil people from history," Lisa thought. Jack the Ripper, worst English man ever who butchered killed with the aide of smog prostitutes. Vlad the Impaler, impaled with huge pointy poles erected arranged in concentric circles prisoners of war and the rest of the people he disliked all the while mandated since he was a ruler.

"I've never hear of you, before."

"Budding relationships need some time for themselves, don't they?" Jackson reasoned.

"Can I talk to her for a while, Vlad? You seem like a nice guy, but I'm not sure about my friend here." Without waiting for "Vlad" to reply, Cynthia had hooked her arm around Lisa's and dragged her behind the potted plant; the same place where Jackson sexually molested Lisa.

"How about you?"

"Me? I'm totally fine! Nothing out of the ordinary! Just a demented spy…"then Cynthia interrupted.

"Not you, Hue! Huebert!"

"Oh. I have to be honest with you, Cynth. You see," then she was interrupted again. Cynthia liked to interrupt out of the workplace. At the hotel, she doesn't interrupt her; she's like a soldier, a weak, redhead, high heeled soldier, taking orders.

"You don't like him? Can't you give him a chance first? Hue's cute. I mean, what's not to like about my cousin. He's my cousin for heaven's sake! He's got good genes! Yeah, he's a bit skinny, but I can tell him to go to the gym or something. He's a really sweet gut, Leese. Why are you going for that Vlad guy? I think he's nice, but how about that porn mustache? You could tell a guy to buff up but not to take off his mustache. IF he had like a month old mustache he'd take it off. But look at that guy's mustache! It's fucking groomed! It's perfect. It's a porn mustache! He might think you're onto his masculinity if you ask him to shave it off. Look at him, Leese!"

Lisa breathes out and looks at the side profile of "Vlad". It was weird, until Cynthia ranted again. Turns out she wasn't finished.

"Gosh, Leese. You don't have to be desperate! I know you don't like blondes, especially dyed blondes. Wait a minute; this guy's not even a dyed blonde. Shit. It's a fucking wig. It's a bit imbalanced. How old is he anyway?"

Lisa then put a hand on her friend's mouth and started to speak. She wasn't really listening to her. So, she got to thinking. She can't tell her. Jack was right. She'll just think she was crazy. Jack also forgot to tell her that she would be putting her friend's life in danger by telling her.

"I've known him for a while now and I don't think that your cousin and I are going to work out. I'm sorry, Cynthia." Cynthia's face went all sad, like a kid you snatched her favorite teddy from. It was irritating. Cynthia not knowing was grating.

Jackson was then closing in on them, at their spot behind the damned potted plant.

"Ladies, I'm sorry but I should probably be leaving. Here on a job, so my minions are waiting." He popped his brows at them and took Lisa's hand. Slowly, like a true Casanova, he landed a kiss on her fist. "We'll get together some other time."

"Bye," they both said. Truthfully though, they both wanted to say, "Good ridden."

Lisa ordered another Seabreeze at the bar before heading for the spa. Lisa was tired of her life and of her horniness. After downing the drink, Lisa decided Cynthia was worried about her and she should probably head to the spa room.

Lisa heaved a big sigh. She sat on the massage table while listening to some relaxing music in the massage room. Suddenly, she didn't feel so insecure and but felt extra horny (she had the itch, damn it! Great timing!) She realized that she had the power to change the course of things. She didn't let anyone bully her. Jackson, was well, she's realized… wasn't such a fuck up. Sure, he fucked her life up, fucking her life up, but he was fuckable. Suddenly, the idea of letting Jackson fuck her wasn't so negative. She wants it anyway. It wasn't making her insecure. In fact, it made her feel the opposite. It gave her a weird sort of confidence to be able to trust herself to flirt with danger up-close to the point she felt completely secure. Life was dangerous and the only way to feel safe in it was to learn the ropes of danger, or so she concluded. Everybody telling you that life didn't need to be dangerous live in a hole. They're only fooling themselves, so they all say the same things to you.

Sometimes, you have to surrender to win. Winning feels good. Carpe Diem. Make best of life, since you don't know when it will be end. Make risky decisions because death is fate, fate is death, so what's the use of being scared of death and all its other complications? She wasn't insecure anymore and she was willing to solve her horny problem.

If Jackson were to walk in this little massage room right now, she might even let him do her right there and then. Or make him do her.

It looks like that moment was now. Stepping into the room and locking it quickly behind him, was none other than the devil himself.

"Look, Leese. I don't think you're going to get a professional massage." He brushed a stray lock of brown hair on his forehead and raised a brow at her.

"No kidding."

"I'm not planning to rape you by the way." With her almost naked predicament, he just felt the need to say it. "Yeah. We need to talk about something."

Lisa had moved, sat on the edge of the table, toward him, with the towel discarded, and only paper panties left. Her little bosoms were exposed and calling to him, he couldn't say no to them.

Jackson couldn't speak.

He was on her faster than you could say erection.

They had used the discarded towel after, for cleaning up.

Jackson used to be insecure with Lisa. Why hadn't his ghastly, and, he quotes from former aficionados, "yet intoxicating" charms not work with Lisa Reisert when it really should have. People are by some law of attraction drawn toward their opposite and he was exactly that to her except for their… shall we say aesthetic quality since Lisa was no doubt, beautiful, _too. _You see, it bewildered him to no end that Lisa Reisert was able to resist the murderous, exciting, and evil, talldebonair that was and is Jackson Rippner. Then it came to him, like a big neon sign of an epiphany exactly why.

Lisa Reisert was not Jackson's opposite. In a way, she was his anima. She was calculated, manipulative, deceptive, gorgeous, and violent as well. In fact, his vile features were not so far away from hers. They were both the cutest wolves in sheep clothing vigilantly willing to do anything for their goal. Yes, they were badly attracted to each other. But as much as likes tend to dissolve each other in orgasmic sighs and amazing pyrotechnics display, they also clash. Clash they did. He must have underestimated Lisa along the way. He must have thought, in his subconscious, that if they were both tumors, surely she would be the underdeveloped one while he was already out there, all malignant and cancerous wrecking havoc.

The insecurities further left him when he strode in the massage room, locked the door, and found himself pounding himself into her warmth, and note it was with excessive requests, begging, willingness, permission, tears of joy and participation!

**AN* Please Comment**


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